


Scenes from a Seduction

by Elle_Morgan_Black



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, Multi, Seduction, Threesome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-03-30 03:43:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 17,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13941870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elle_Morgan_Black/pseuds/Elle_Morgan_Black
Summary: It was just supposed to be a job, a summer of tutoring and research. She had no idea what she was getting into.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [TheForbiddenFruit](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/TheForbiddenFruit) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Alternate universe, post-war era. Pureblood/Muggleborn, Threesome, Infidelity. 
> 
> How long will it take to seduce Hermione Granger? The Malfoys have all summer.

 

**Tuesday, June 1, 2012**

Malfoy Manor loomed before her.

Hermione Granger had not considered returning to this place after the war, much less moving in, but this would be her home for the summer. As the potions professor at Hogwarts, she often stayed at school over holidays to tutor students who were struggling with her classes, and her summers were normally devoted to research. Sometimes she stayed at Hogwarts, and sometimes her research took her all over the world. This year though, Draco Malfoy made her an offer she couldn’t refuse: move into the manor for the summer to tutor his 12 year old son, Scorpius, and he’d pay her an exorbitant amount of money plus give her use of both his personal potions laboratory and the infamous Malfoy library for her own research. So she’d packed her trunk and taken the Hogwarts Express back to London with the students and tried to mentally prepare herself for a summer with the Malfoys. Mercifully, it would just be Draco, his wife, and his son, as his parents would be summering in France.

It was hard to think of Malfoy as someone’s father. She knew he’d married Astoria Greengrass as soon as he finished his post-war ‘eighth year’ at Hogwarts and produced an heir soon after. It was odd to see a miniature version of Draco show up at Hogwarts. She’d dreaded his arrival from the moment she’d seen his name on the list of incoming first years, but instead of a bullying prat, Scorpius was quiet and polite, but unfocused.

Hermione was unprepared for Astoria Malfoy. She’d not spent any time in school with the younger witch, nor had their paths crossed in the brief time Hermione worked in the Ministry before returning to Hogwarts to teach. Her first impression upon arrival at the manor was that Astoria was stunning: pale skin, blue eyes, lustrous auburn hair. Her eyes lit up when Hermione arrived, and she’d welcomed her with open arms, gushing about how happy she was to have another witch around all summer. Astoria had dimples when she smiled and a tinkling laugh that put Hermione at ease.

Malfoy met them at the front door with warm greetings for his son and a nod her direction.

“Welcome,” he said with a smile. If it was meant to put her at ease, it had the opposite effect, for she could not recall Malfoy ever _smiling_ at someone like her.

“Hello, Malfoy,” she said, automatically using his surname.

He smirked. “You know, Granger, you’re living here. There are three people in this house who answer to ‘Malfoy.’ You’ll have to call us by name.”

She blinked, momentarily taken aback. “Oh. Um, alright. I suppose I can do that. But if I’m to call you Draco, then it would only be proper for you to call me Hermione.”

“Well then, welcome to Malfoy Manor, Hermione.”

The sound of her name on his lips sent an unexpected shiver down her spine.

Life at Malfoy Manor was nicer than she expected. Draco insisted she dine with the family if she was in the home at mealtimes, and Astoria insisted they take tea together every day, usually in the gardens or the conservatory. Her bedroom was cosy but luxurious, the potions lab was extravagant, and the library was even better than she’d hoped.

Scorpius was a smart child but had a difficult time staying focused, a huge liability in a discipline as exacting as potions. She dove right into her assignment, spending hours and hours helping him prepare ingredients and walking him step by step through first and second year potions. He was eager to learn, despite his difficulties, and Hermione thought her summer was off to a wonderful start.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Monday, June 14**

 

A heat wave descended on southern England, blanketing the countryside in an oppressive heat that cooling charms barely seemed to touch. The Malfoys ditched outer robes, long sleeves, and for Astoria, longer dresses, in favor of cooler clothing. Hermione remained buttoned up and covered from neck to heel. Scotland was cold even in the summer, especially in the dungeons, and she didn’t own much in the way of summer witch’s robes. The family’s potions lab was at least underground, making it a generally cooler room, but she was unable to use cooling charms to counteract the heat from her cauldrons, lest the charm interfere with the delicate experiments she had underway. 

“Oh my! It’s sweltering down here!” 

Hermione startled and looked up to see Astoria in the doorway. 

“I don’t see how you’re managing with this heat,” Astoria said, crossing the room to look over Hermione’s shoulder at the contents of the bubbling cauldron.

Hermione wiped the sweat from her brow, frowning at the realisation that her sleeve was already soaked from the repetitive motion. 

“I don’t own a lot of summer clothing,” she mumbled in embarrassment. 

“Well if you keep wearing that, you’re liable to pass out from heat exhaustion. Let’s find something else for you.”

Hermione tried to protest, but Astoria practically dragged her from the dungeons as soon as she cast a stasis spell on her potion. They ended up in a wardrobe of absurd proportions that left Hermione gaping at the clothing the young Madam Malfoy owned. 

“I have so many summer robes I never wear, and I insist that you borrow some, at least until this heat wave passes or I can drag you out of the house to go shopping. There’s no reason for you to suffer like this,” Astoria insisted, handing clothing to her. “We look to be about the same size, and anyway, summer robes are forgiving.”

And so it was that Hermione came to dinner that night dressed in a sleeveless blue robe that bared far more of her figure, her cleavage, and her legs than she felt comfortable showing. When she entered the dining room, Draco stood from his chair and slowly looked her up and down. His perusal made her nervous, as did the arch of his brow when his eyes finally met hers. 

“I’m impressed, Granger,” he said in a low voice. “Had I known you looked like that under the bulky robes you normally wear, I would have asked you out in school.”

She snorted indelicately, for the idea that Malfoy would have found her attractive enough to date was utterly absurd. Still, it was nice of him to say. It had been a long time since anyone had bothered to compliment her appearance. She tried not to think about how her body reacted to the look he’d given her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Friday, June 18**

 

The heat wave showed no signs of dissipating, and Hermione thought if she had to spend much more time over a cauldron, she might die. She and Scorpius spent time in the library instead, but the boy preferred to be in the pool or flying on his broom where at least there was a breeze. 

Eventually - with Astoria’s blessing - she caved and sent him off to splash in the water. Free of her young charge, she wandered the halls of the library, reverently trailing her fingers across the spines of row after row of books. She paused now and then to reshelve items she found left out. Draco, she’d learned, was not a tidy person. She supposed having house elves to pick up after you would do that to a person. 

She reshelved two books on arithmancy and finance and one on Egyptian artefacts before she found herself in a dark corner of the library she’d not yet explored. One of the books was pushed out of alignment, standing out from the rest. The gilt lettering on the spine read _Magick Moste Intimate._ Hermione slid it from the shelf and thumbed through it. She gasped and then blushed furiously when she realised this book was about sex magic. She’d heard whispers about it, but she’d never known anyone with any actual knowledge of the subject. She closed it and quickly placed it back on the shelf. 

To her surprise the book beside it was also of an intimate nature. And the one next to it. Her mouth dropped open when she realised the entire shelf was filled with erotic books. She’d never seen anything like this! Oh sure, she knew pornography existed in both the muggle and magical worlds, but she’d never sought it out, never seen any of it. 

Hermione glanced around the library. It was empty, for now, but the doors were unlocked and the family was at home. Anyone could come in at any moment. She certainly did not want Draco or Astoria to find her thumbing through their collection of sex books. She turned back to the shelf. Did Draco collect these books? Some looked rather old, and others like they’d been produced in recent years. She shuddered at the thought that these were perhaps Lucius Malfoy’s books and was thankful that Draco’s parents were far away in France. 

Oh god, what if these WERE Draco’s books, she thought to herself. The image of Draco reading these texts and then stripping Astoria and taking her against the stacks in the library suddenly filled Hermione’s mind. She’d never thought of him in a sexual way before, and the image in her mind was both titillating and disturbing.

Still, she couldn’t imagine another situation where she’d ever have an opportunity like this to read so much about such a taboo subject. Surely it was worth the risk of getting caught! Her hands trembled as she reached for another book.

Oh, this looked like it had potential, she thought as she cradled the weighty tome in her hands. Just then a delicious thought occurred to her: there was no rule that she had to leave the books in the library. Indeed, she’d moved several potions reference books to the lab to keep in easy reach. She could secret a few away of these erotic books to read in the privacy of her bedroom. 

That night with her room warded and locked to prevent intrusion, she curled up on the bed with one of the books, a fictional story about an innocent young witch seduced by a scheming wizard. At first she thought it to be the same sort of absurd romantic drivel her former dorm-mates at Hogwarts had enjoyed, but she soon realised it was nothing of the sort. A flush spread across her chest as she read increasingly graphic scenes between the couple. 

She was already breathing heavily when she came to a scene where the wizard, Dominus, asked his witch, Adhara, to pleasure herself in front of him. Hermione’s face burned with mortification at the thought of doing  _ that _ in front of someone else. She felt her own pulse race as the author described in great detail just how Adhara touched herself, and how her body reacted. 

Hermione shifted on top of the bed coverings, her knickers uncomfortably damp, her body flushed with need. She knew she could quickly bring herself off with her usual efficient technique, but the way the book described Adhara teasing her nipples and slowly spreading her legs and licking her fingers before sliding them through her wet folds sounded so much more alluring.

Maybe she could try it, take her time… She slid her cotton nightshirt up over her belly and then pulled it off altogether, her fingers moving lightly over bare skin. She traced her fingers around her nipple before pinching it as Adhara did. 

She moaned softly at the sensation. Why had she neglected her breasts in the past? This felt so good. She used her wand to cast a levitation spell on the book so she could use both of her hands to pinch and tug at her nipples. 

When the ache between her legs grew too strong, she abandoned her breasts and trailed her fingers back down her torso to her simple lace-trimmed knickers. Her body felt so hot, so needy. She rubbed the gusset of her knickers and moaned again at how damp they felt. Her skin tingled as she slid the undergarment down her thighs. Had she ever been this turned on before? It seemed doubtful. 

She glanced back at the book and turned the page. Dominus had released his cock from his trousers and was slowly stroking it to the sight of Adhara rubbing a gentle figure eight around her clitoris. Hermione looked at the foot of her bed and wished she had a handsome wizard stroking his cock to the sight of her touching herself.

She followed along with the description in the book, sucking on her index and middle fingers to lubricate them before sliding them through the wet folds of her pussy as Adhara had done. Her hips jerked as her fingers bumped her clitoris, and something inside her spasmed when she used a fingertip to make that same figure eight motion over and around her clit. In the past, she’d been able to get off by just rapidly rubbing her clit until she came. This was  _ so _ much better.

Dominus instructed Adhara to fuck herself with her fingers, so Hermione followed suit and tentatively slid one finger and then two into her vagina. She pumped in and out slowly and then faster, figuring out what brought the most pleasure. Her right hand alternated between teasing her nipples and rubbing at her clit. 

Dominus was talking dirty to Adhara now in the scene. Hermione closed her eyes, the book momentarily forgotten as she pictured a wizard watching her fuck herself as he whispered naughty things in her ear.

_ You’re a dirty witch aren’t you? Look at you with your legs spread like a whore and your fingers in your cunt. That’s so fucking hot. Fuck yourself harder. Faster. So good. Do your fingers feel good, baby? My cock will feel even better. I’m going to fuck you so good when you come. _

Hermione panted at the mental image and the prurient thoughts, her hips rocking with the frantic pace of her fingers. So good, so close. The coil inside her wound tighter and tighter, so close. She worked a third slender finger into her pussy and then - 

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck! Yes!” she gasped as her pussy rippled and spasmed and the waves of her orgasm washed over her body. In that moment, the imaginary voice of her seductive partner morphed into a more familiar, sneering voice.

_ I’m going to make you come so hard when I fuck you. _

Her eyes widened in horror as she realised that her fantasy lover’s voice had somehow morphed into that of Draco Malfoy.


	4. Chapter 4

**Saturday, June 26**

 

In every bit of her spare time, Hermione read. During the day, it was books on arithmancy and potions. At night, locked away in the privacy of her room, it was books from _ that _ shelf. She’d been haunted by the idea that her mind had somehow drawn upon memories of Malfoy’s voice for her fantasy that night, but it wasn’t enough to keep her away from the allure of the the erotic books in the library. 

Some were fictional. Some were more factual, detailing different aspects of sexual practise. Some covered spells and charms designed to enhance the sexual experience. She wanted to know more. She needed to know more. What would it feel like to be blindfolded and pleasured by a wizard? Would being tied up really make sex that much better? Why was pain a turn on to some people? Would there really be a heightened sense of pleasure if one had sex in a semi-public space or in front of other people? 

Hermione had always valued knowledge, always strived to learn more, to know more, but in this area she was woefully, embarrassingly lacking. She’d fallen into a relationship with Ron after the war, and he’d been her first. It was fumbling and messy and uncomfortable and not at all what she’d hoped for. It had not gotten much better as time went on. She was unsure how to put words to her desires, much less how to voice them. 

They’d fumbled about as a couple until she finally worked up the nerve to tell him that she needed more in bed. She’d hoped for understanding, hoped he’d be open to trying new things with her, things that might bring them both more pleasure. Instead he’d blown up at her. She was a prude, unable to satisfy HIM, he’d said. He left her after that for a series of witches before marrying a Hufflepuff from their year. She suffered through a few boyfriends following their breakup, never once reaching a pinnacle a pleasure with any of them. Maybe there was something wrong with her body, wrong with her, that she’d only been able to achieve an orgasm with the aid of her own fingers. 

She took Minerva’s offer of a teaching job at Hogwarts and learned soon after that it drastically reduced her opportunities to meet a nice wizard and settle down. Gradually her friends all married and started families of their own, and she remained closeted away at Hogwarts, resigned to the idea that she was just not a sexual being, that she was destined to be alone.

Only now did it occur to her that perhaps she’d been wrong. Only now was she learning her body from the books hidden in the Malfoy library, learning how to better touch herself, how to make her body thrum with need before finally reaching sweet release, how to make herself come multiple times even. 

It was as if some hidden part of her had awakened from a lifelong slumber, and suddenly she saw the world with new eyes. The table in the library where she did her work was the perfect height to be bent over and taken from behind. The silk scarf Astoria wore as a belt with her favorite pink summer dress would be ideal to use to gently restrain someone. And Draco Malfoy, she thought objectively, had turned into a handsome wizard. His slender figure had broadened and filled out and his features had morphed from pointed to chiseled. Now why couldn’t she find a wizard who looked like that, she wondered.

She dismissed the thought immediately. No one wanted a bushy-haired prude of a schoolmarm. Plus, it was wrong to feel any sort of attraction toward Draco. He was married, he was technically her employer for the summer, and she genuinely liked his wife. Astoria was far from the cold, snobbish pureblood princess she’d expected. But Draco was the only adult wizard around, and she found herself looking at him in a new, more appreciative light, especially after hearing his voice in her head when she orgasmed that night.

Hermione had the day off from tutoring, as Scorpius had gone to a friend’s home. She’d intended to spend it alone in the library, but Astoria dragged her out of the manor for a ‘witches only’ shopping trip.

“You have to come with me! Daphne was supposed to spend the day with me, but her daughter is unwell, and I don’t want to go alone.”

“I’m not really much for shopping,” Hermione admitted.

“Nonsense! I’d like to host a reception for some of Draco’s business partners and clients later this summer. He doesn’t socialise nearly as often as he should, and he’ll find it harder to tell me no if I tell him I’ve already found the perfect dress! Plus you could use some new summer robes, and it’s no fun to go to the salon by myself. And before you object, I know exactly what my husband is paying you to spend the summer with us, so I know you can afford this.”

Hermione sighed in defeat and followed the beautiful witch into the floo.

She was pleasantly surprised to find that shopping with Astoria was nicer than she expected. They’d gone to a posh salon off Diagon Alley where Astoria talked her into having a relaxation potion applied to her hair. It would last six months and left her with silky waves for the first time in her life. This was even better than Sleek-Eazy’s, and she didn’t have to spend hours applying it every day! She grudgingly admitted to Astoria that the potion was worth the galleons she spent on it.

After lunch, they spent the afternoon at Twilfit & Tattings, trying on clothes as Astoria questioned Hermione about her research. Shopping was not so painful, she realised, when she could talk about the use of arithmancy to modify a potion’s effectiveness or duration with an intelligent witch. She felt almost guilty for initially assuming Astoria would be a vapid trophy wife. She was beautiful, yes, but also smart. She was beginning to think of Astoria as a friend, and she hoped whatever rapport they built this summer could continue after she returned to Hogwarts.

She was drawn from her thoughts when Astoria called out to her from the dressing room.

“What is it?” Hermione asked as she approached.

“Come in!”

“Are you sure?”

“Please!”

She glanced around to make sure they didn’t have an audience and then slipped inside. 

“What is it?”

“Help!” 

Astoria stood in the middle of the small room, half-dressed in a purple dress robe she held to her chest. 

“I normally would not wear something this daring, but I don’t know - it just called to me. But the back is confusing, and I can’t fasten it myself,” she admitted. 

“Oh. I, um, I could get the saleswitch to help you,” Hermione offered. Had this been Ginny Potter, she would not have hesitated, but Astoria was her  _ employer _ . Being in a dressing room with her, helping her dress felt like crossing a line.  

“Don’t be silly. I don’t want some strange witch in here with me. You can help me.”

With that, she turned to face the mirror, saying over her shoulder, “I had to unlace everything to get it on.”

Astoria’s back was bare, an expanse of creamy white skin with a narrow waist. She was not wearing a bra, and Hermione was suddenly aware that she’d not been this close to a half-naked witch in a very long time. 

“Um, how does this work?” Hermione asked as she looked at the ribbons dangling from the back of the dress.

“It laces up, like a corset, but with more skin bared. I read about this designer in  _ Witch Weekly _ . She gets her inspiration from fashions in the muggle world!” Astoria said, and Hermione had to marvel at the idea that Draco Malfoy’s wife liked clothing inspired by the muggle world. What sort of strange universe was she now living in? 

Years ago she’d helped lace Ginny into the corset of her wedding dress, and she told herself this was no different. But somehow it was. Her hands trembled as she pulled the zip on the dress as high as it would go. It ended at the small of Astoria’s back, and then she had to thread the supple silk through small eyelets in a criss-cross pattern.

“The one on display had the ribbons tie in a bow at the top,” Astoria offered over her shoulder.

“Oh. Okay. Hold on. This is confusing. How would you get dressed in this at home?” she asked. It looked far different than Ginny’s modest wedding corset. These ribbons would hardly cover anything.

“One of the elves could help me. Or Draco, but knowing Draco, he’d take one look at me half in the dress and rip it off,” Astoria giggled. 

Hermione blushed furiously at the mental picture she suddenly had in her head and tried to focus on the ribbons and not on how warm and soft Astoria’s skin was. 

‘ _ I really need to leave those books alone if I’m having inappropriate thoughts about another witch, _ ’ she thought to herself.

“There. All done. I think,” she said finally. The ribbons crossed Astoria’s back, baring more than they covered, providing just enough support to hold up the front of the dress. 

Astoria stepped away from her to turn in a circle, admiring herself in the mirror. The dress was positively scandalous. Hermione knew she would never dare wear anything of the sort, but she had to admit that Astoria looked phenomenal. 

“What do you think?” she asked, twisting to glance at Hermione.

“I think...you look amazing, but it’s awfully...um. Bare. It’s rather…”

“Daring?”

“It is definitely that.”

“I think I’m going to get it.”

Hermione couldn’t help herself. “Where on earth would you wear something like that?” 

Astoria shrugged. “It’s elegant enough I could get away with wearing it to a cocktail party, with the right crowd. I might wear it for that reception I want to host. Merlin knows if Draco sees me in this, he’ll never tell me no!”

Hermione’s eyes widened at the thought of wearing something that risque in public, and Astoria giggled. 

“Help me out of this thing, and let’s go find something daring for you too!” 

When they returned to the manor that evening, Draco’s eyes widened at the sight of Hermione in a form fitting, sleek grey dress, her hair tumbling down her back in graceful waves.

He whistled low and looked her up and down in a rather obvious sort of way that shocked Hermione, given that his wife was right there.

“Doesn’t she look amazing?” Astoria gushed, looping her arm through Hermione’s as if they were the closest of friends.

“I admit it, I’m impressed,” he said. His words and the appreciative gaze he fixed on Hermione made her feel weak in the knees.


	5. Chapter 5

**Monday, July 5**

 

“How is it going down here?”

Hermione and Scorpius looked up from their potion as Draco lingered in the doorway.

“I’d rather be playing quidditch,” Scorpius said with a scowl.

“I don’t like your tone, son. Apologise to Professor Granger,” Draco said sharply, walking into the laboratory.

Scorpius sighed and looked down at the cauldron.

“My apologies professor. I was impolite.”

“That’s alright,” she said. “I accept your apology. Now, you need to slice the wormroot very precisely. They should be thin slices, just like this.”

She deftly wielded the her knife, cutting the root into thin slices. “See?”

The boy nodded as Draco came up behind them.

“That’s a little thick, Scorp,” he offered, leaning in between them.

Scorpius shot his father a ‘death glare’ and Hermione bit her lip to stifle a giggle. Scorpius didn’t seem to mind being corrected by his professor, but he obviously resented his father’s admonition.

“It’s not too thick, is it professor?” he asked, glancing up at her.

Hermione was about to respond when she felt the warmth of a hand on her back. Was that… Draco was  _ touching  _ her. She thought it had been an accident, his hand on her back, but he didn’t remove it. 

“Um, it’s... well, your father is correct,” she admitted before going into lecture mode. “You are slicing the wormroot a little bit thick. I don’t require that you slice it so thinly just to be difficult, you know. Potions ingredients are prepared exactingly to maximize their effectiveness. If you slice the wormroot too thickly, it won’t dissolve properly, and you won’t get the proper benefits of the ingredient. For this particular potion, it won’t ruin it entirely, but for others, you’d have to start all over again.” 

As she spoke, Draco’s hand slid down her spine to the small of her back, making her pulse race. She tried to focus on her lecture to his son and not on the way the heat from his palm seemed to burn right through her new lightweight summer robes.

Scorpius groaned and reached for a new root. “I’m pants at this. I’ll never get this right.”

“Language, son. You just need to focus,” Draco admonished.

Focus, yes, focus, Hermione thought. It was hard to focus though because Draco Malfoy was standing close to her, his chest almost touching her shoulder, his hand resting just above the curve of her arse. She could smell his cologne, feel the warmth of his body, and her own body tingled with desire. 

_ ‘Oh god, oh god, oh god,’ _ she chanted in her head as his hand slipped even lower, practically palming her arse. Had he interpreted her lack of a response to his touch as consent? Did he think she wanted him?

_ You do want him _ , her brain reminded her.

She tried to mentally shake off the burgeoning lust she felt for Draco. He was technically her employer, and he was married, married to a lovely witch Hermione considered a friend. She needed to get him out of the laboratory. He couldn’t be down here with her, with Scorpius, not when she wanted to shove him against the nearest flat surface and tear off his robes.

“As much as I appreciate the assistance, your presence here is a distraction for your son,” she told Draco, silently marveling at how steady and sure her voice sounded when she felt anything but.

“I’m far less of a distraction than a classroom filled with students,” he shot back. That was true, she mentally conceded, but he was certainly distracting  _ her _ .

“Mr. Malfoy-”

“Draco.”

“Draco, I must ask you to give us some space,” she said formally, stifling a gasp as he slipped his hand slid lower and squeezed her arse.

“Alright. I know when I’m not wanted,” he said. “Scorpius, if Professor Granger is pleased with your work today, you may go flying later this evening.”

The boy’s face lit up with a smile even as a shaken Hermione shooed Draco out of the lab. The smirk he gave her on the way out the door was positively lascivious, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to punch him or kiss him. Either way, she spent the rest of the afternoon in knickers that were uncomfortably damp. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Wednesday July 7**

 

She’d intended to confront Draco about his very inappropriate arse-grabbing, but he’d made himself scarce after that, waving off her attempts to talk to him with a ‘Not now’ as he left the library when she walked in. 

Hours later, Hermione wrapped up her library-based research for the night and was cleaning up when she found it. At first she assumed it was another book Draco had left out. She picked up the book, confused at the lack of a title on the worn, red leather. 

“Where do you belong?” she murmured to herself, flipping it open. The book somehow managed to look both old and new at once, the pages thick and glossy but the text a swirling font in a language she didn’t recognize, interspersed with runes for passion, lust, and love.

She turned the page and nearly dropped the book when she saw what was contained within. Depicted in the glossy pages was a couple having sex. It was like watching a looping film clip: a naked woman was bound to a bed as an equally naked man pounded into her hard enough to make her breasts shake. The level of detail was intricate - she could even see the arousal coating the man’s cock when he pulled out of the woman. It was so life-like and so alluring to watch that it sent a rush of desire through her.

And then she saw it. The woman’s auburn hair and blue eyes, the distinctive white blond hair on the man.

_ ‘Oh my god - is that DRACO and Astoria?’  _ she thought to herself. She was at once torn between slamming the book shut and pretending she’d never seen it and turning the page to see what else was there.

After taking a quick glance around the room to make sure she was still alone, lust won out, and she turned the page to see another explicit scene. In this image, Draco and Astoria were in a bathtub that rivaled the prefects’ bath at Hogwarts in size, Astoria in his lap, riding his cock as he palmed her breasts. The next page was them in what looked like Draco’s study, Astoria bent over his desk as he fucked her, sporadically slapping her bare arse and leaving red handprints on her creamy white skin. 

It was shamefully wrong to stare, but she couldn’t help herself. She’d never watched anyone have sex before, and this was… it was so  _ hot _ . She was so turned on just looking at these moving photos.

What would it be like to be fucked by someone who obviously knew what he was doing, she wondered. She traced her fingers over the image of the figure in the study, and to her shock, it began to shift, the papers and books morphing into cauldrons and potions. Draco was still there, clothed, but Astoria had changed. She was…

“Holy fuck!” Hermione whispered, dropping the book in shock. 

The woman in the image was no longer Astoria. 

The witch in the photo was now clearly Hermione Granger.

She glanced around the library again to make sure she was still alone before she bent and retrieved the book. She turned back to  _ that _ page and watched, utterly captivated and speechless as photo Draco cupped photo Hermione’s arse and slowly pulled up her robes from behind before slipping his fingers into her knickers. Photo Draco was apparently whispering indecent things to the photo image of herself as he fingered her to what looked like a powerful orgasm in the midst of the potions laboratory. Had Scorpius not been in the lab with her that day, is this what could have happened?

“Oh my god. Oh my god,” she whispered, quickly turning the page. What  _ was _ this book?

Her mouth fell open in shock when she realised the next page showed Astoria in a dressing room with a purple dress around her hips, breasts bared as she teased her nipples. Hermione watched as an image of herself entered the dressing room and tugged playfully on the strings dangling from the back of the purple dress before being pulled into a passionate kiss with the other witch. 

Living in a dorm with other teenage witches meant she’d seen a lot of naked females before, and she’d objectively admired the female form, but she’d never considered  _ this _ . She stared at the image of the two witches groping, kissing, and pleasing each other in what looked to be a public dressing room. 

She couldn’t… she didn’t dare turn the page. What even was this book? It was almost as if it could read her mind. She’d been so turned on in the lab when Draco had groped her. But the dressing room...she had felt something that day with Astoria, but surely not this. It wasn’t lust, was it?

Objectively she found the Malfoys both very attractive, but they were her  _ employers _ . It would be beyond inappropriate to even think...

_ ‘Except that it’s obvious Draco wants you. He squeezed your arse, didn’t he?’ _ her traitorous mind reminded her.

Another terrifying thought then occurred to her: this book had been left out, left near the table she used nightly for her research. Had Draco done that on purpose? What the hell was he doing? What was his game? Whatever it was, she was tired of playing it. She slammed the book closed and stormed out of the library, determined to give Malfoy a piece of her mind.

Except that trying to find anyone in this monstrosity of a house was almost impossible. She wandered for ages in quiet halls before she finally heard his voice. She moved toward the conservatory and saw that the doors had been left partially open.

She was prepared to walk in and to tell Draco sodding Malfoy that she did not appreciate him playing games with her, but a moan drew her up short before she could push the door open.

Hermione peered through the crack in the door and had to stifle a gasp at the sight of Astoria laid out on the very table where the two witches often took their afternoon tea. Astoria’s robes were unfastened to bare luscious breasts that she cupped in her own hands. One of her legs was wrapped around Draco, the other rested on his shoulder as he fucked her. 

“Fuck, witch. You’re so wet!” he hissed, throwing his head back. 

“Mmmm… so good baby. Harder!” Astoria arched her back and tugged on her own nipples.

Hermione was mortified at the idea of being caught watching them fuck, but she couldn’t move away from the door. It was mesmerizing, and she was acutely aware that between the book with its tempting, seductive images, and now the scene playing out before her that her clit was throbbing with need. She rubbed at her pussy through her robes and knickers, but it wasn’t nearly enough. Her hand crept under the hem of her robes, and there in the hallway, she brought herself to a frantic, quiet orgasm as she watched Draco fuck Astoria.


	7. Chapter 7

**Friday, July 13**

 

She spent almost a week hiding from Draco and Astoria. She feigned sleeping in to miss breakfast, she hid in her room in the evenings or left to visit friends, and she even feigned illness on one memorable day that she spent in bed, frantically bringing herself off again and again to the words and pictures in the books she’d stashed in her room and the memories of what she’d witnessed that night. 

Eventually she had to emerge from hiding, lest the Malfoys suspect anything was amiss. When Draco checked on their progress in the lab, she carefully avoided making eye contact. When Astoria visited the library to see how she was doing, she buried herself in her books and parchments and pretended to be overly busy. 

It couldn’t last. She knew it wouldn’t. But she was unprepared for how this impasse would finally come to an end.

It was late, almost midnight. Normally she’d already be in her room, but she’d been engrossed in an arithmancy text and lost track of time. 

“Did you like what you saw?”

The unexpected voice startled her, and she dropped her text on the table in surprise. She put a hand to her chest, as if to slow her racing heartbeat. 

“You scared me! Don’t sneak up on me like that!” she hissed at Draco. 

He was leaning casually against the doorframe, a crystal tumbler held loosely in his left hand. He pushed himself off the frame and shut the door behind him before ambling into the room, his head tilted as he studied her. 

“It seems I have no choice but to sneak up on you, as you’re avoiding me.”

She blushed and looked away. It would be best if she put away her book and retreated to her room, she thought. 

“Why are you avoiding me, Hermione?” he asked as he approached the table. He leaned against it, and to Hermione’s horror, she realised that his crotch was almost at eye level. He’d removed his robes and was dressed simply in just trousers and a shirt.

_ Don’t look at his cock, don’t look at his cock, _ she pleaded with herself.

“I’m...I’m not avoiding you,” she stammered. “I’ve been very busy. Are you…you’re drinking?”

He took a sip of his drink and stared her down.

“I’m not drunk. Not yet. You didn’t answer my question.”

“What question?” she asked.

“Did you like what you saw? In my book?” 

Her heart dropped into her stomach at his words, and she found it hard to breathe as she watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed another sip of firewhiskey.

“You’ve been so  _ busy _ this summer, but then you always were a bookworm, weren’t you? I wondered how long it would take, you know.”

“How long what would take?” she stammered. She wanted to stand up and rush from the room, but somehow she stayed frozen in her chair, staring up at him.

“For you to find it.  _ Magick Moste Intimate _ .”

Her thoughts raced as she tried to recall finding the shelf filled with erotica. 

“You left it out,” she guessed.

“I knew you were smart. Yes, I thought you’d be most interested in learning new magic, but you’ve barely even touched that book. You surprised me.”

“You… you… how do you know what I’m reading?”

She could barely breathe, and surely her heart was going to explode from her chest. Maybe if she could get her hands on her wand, she could  _ obliviate _ him and pretend this entire horrific conversation had never happened.

He chuckled and took another sip of his drink. “I’m intimately familiar with everything on that shelf. I collected all of it. I also noticed, curiously, that since you found it, books have disappeared from it, only to be replaced a day or two later.”

She opened her mouth to respond but was unsure what to say. 

“You’ve not taken  _ Magick Moste Intimate _ , which surprises me. You did, however, take the book on BDSM. Kinky, Granger. I’m impressed.”

“I wasn’t aware that anything in this library was off limits to me. If you did not want me to read certain books, you should not have them here, especially not where Scorpius could find them. That content is hardly inappropriate for a child and -” she said stiffly.

He cut her off abruptly. “Scorpius can’t see them. They’re warded against underage users. Think whatever you want of me, but I wouldn’t leave pornography out for a child to find.”

He set the glass down on the table and fixed his gaze on her. “But we’re not talking about Scorpius. We’re talking about you, my deviant little bookworm. Did you enjoy watching the images in the  _ librum de memoria et phantasia _ ?  I left it on the table especially for you.”

She swallowed hard, unable to send the message from her brain to her mouth to speak.

“Did you figure out how it works? It collects your sexual fantasies and memories and plays them for you on the pages of the book.”

_ Oh fuck. Was he implying… if she could see images of him and Astoria did that mean… _

“I see the wheels turning in your head. Yes, love, I’ve seen the images your magic added to the book: me making you come in the lab. And you and Tori - fuck that was hot. I had no idea you swung both ways, Granger.”

_ I’m going to die. Right now. My heart is going to beat itself to an explosion, and I’m going to drop dead right now in this library, _ she thought.

“I...I don’t. I’ve never…” she stuttered.

“Oh, I didn’t think you had. You’re far too conservative for that sort of thing, aren’t you? But then you know what they say - it’s always the quiet ones,” he chuckled lightly. “Watching your lurid fantasies play out on paper was so hot. You have no idea how hard you made me, or how many times I came to those pictures.”

Her face burned in mortification at the idea of him  _ watching _ her, of him wanking over her fantasies. She really needed to get away from him before she said or did something she’d regret in the morning.

She stood on shaky legs and backed away from the table.

“It’s late. I should go -”

She knew he’d been drinking, and she thought it would dull his reflexes. She’d been wrong. He reached out with a seeker’s precision and grabbed onto her upper arm, pulling her toward him.

“You aren’t going anywhere.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Saturday, July 14**

 

Somewhere in the depths of Malfoy Manor, a clock chimed midnight. Hermione and Draco stood in the library, his fingers wrapped tightly around her upper arm, the air thick with tension.

“You shouldn’t...it’s not…” She silently cursed her inept brain and its inability to make her mouth form coherent sentences.

“Shut up, Granger,” he said.

And then he kissed her.

The tension had built around them for weeks, culminating in this. It was as if an explosion had detonated between them. One moment they were staring at each other, both frozen in place, and the next, his lips crashed onto hers. 

He devoured her. There was simply no other way to describe it. She could smell the firewhiskey on his breath, taste it in his kiss. His tongue plumbed the depths of her mouth, his teeth nipped at her bottom lip, his arms wound around her, crushing her smaller frame to his. 

His kiss was everything, it was passion and lust and years of shared history and antagonism and it went on and on until she was breathless and weak in the knees. She clung to him as she eagerly kissed him back, winding her fingers through his silky hair, pressing her breasts into the broad plain of his chest. 

It had been so long, so very long since she’d felt a wizard’s arms around her, felt his lips on her own. It was so easy to get lost in Draco’s embrace, in the overwhelming desire he roused in her. It was clear he desired her as well, for she could feel the hard bulge in his trousers pressed against her lower belly. 

Ultimately it was this very visible, very tangible result of their kiss that brought Hermione back to her senses.

She pushed backed against his chest.

“Wait,” she gasped. 

He nipped at her jaw and then his lips latched onto the slender column of her throat, making her moan and tilt her head back because fuck, that felt good.

“Draco, we have to stop.”

“It’s okay. Shhh…” he mumbled into her skin.

“Malfoy. STOP,” she said more forcefully as she pushed at his shoulders.

He paused then and rested his forehead on her shoulder, breathing heavily.

“We have to stop,” she said weakly.

He slid his hands up her torso, skirting around the side of her breasts. “Fuck, Granger, you smell so good.”

“I thought you were calling me Hermione,” she reminded him.

“Hermione.”

He breathed her name into her collarbone, as if the very name itself was a soft prayer on his lips. 

He didn’t seem inclined to release her, and she had to remind herself that he was intoxicated. 

“Draco, this is...god. This is incredible, but we can’t do this,” she said quietly. “You - you’re my employer. You’re married, and your wife, god, Draco your wife doesn’t deserve this. She’s been nothing but kind to me.”

He lifted his head and looked at her with those piercing grey eyes of his. 

“I can make you feel so good. Everything you’re reading, all of those books you’ve been looking at, I can give that to you,” he said in a low voice that made something inside her quiver.

She stepped out of his embrace and shook her head, horrified that he seemed to be ignoring her reminder of his wife. Was he really that far gone, that drunk?

“I don’t know what is going on in your marriage, and I don’t want to know, Malfoy, but you’re drunk, and I’m not going to help you cheat on your wife,” she said sharply. She felt deeply ashamed that she’d let him kiss her. 

She realised with a heavy heart that she would not be able to stay here. It would be too tempting, and she’d never be able to look Astoria in the eye, knowing how she and Draco had both betrayed her. She would pack in the morning, she told herself. Minerva would probably let her return to Hogwarts early.

Hermione turned away from him then and squared herself shoulders, prepared to walk out of the library and out of Draco Malfoy’s life forever. 

She only got a few steps before he caught her from behind. His arm snaked around her waist, holding her close to him. His breath, his lips were hot against her neck. 

“It’s not cheating if she’s there too.”

Surely she’d not heard him correctly. Surely he wasn’t suggesting… it was so outlandish, so utterly incomprehensible that she couldn’t even put it into words.

“Would you let her watch? She’s very visual, you know,” he continued.

She could barely hear her own stuttered, ‘what?’ over the sound of her blood rushing in her ears. She stilled in his hold, too stunned at his words to remember that she was leaving.

“Those pictures, what you’ve seen, it’s nothing like watching the real thing. All of the other senses are involved. You can hear all of the moans and whimpers and cries of pleasure.”

Her head tilted back against his shoulder, and she fought to hold back a whimper of her own.

“The smell of arousal, of sex. Taste...I bet you taste so good, sweetheart,” he punctuated his words by trailing his tongue down the length of her neck, making her moan.

“Touch,” he continued. “You let me touch you. Would you let her?” His hand came up to cup her breast through the thin fabric of her robe. Her nipples hardened into stiff peaks under his touch.

“Draco…”

“I know you’ve thought about her. You had to, or it wouldn’t have appeared in the book. She has the most perfect tits,” he said, squeezing hers for emphasis. “So soft, with perfect pink nipples. I’d love to see you suck on her tits.”

He ground his cock into her arse for emphasis, demonstrating just how appealing that mental picture was. 

“Would you like that, Hermione?” he whispered, biting at her ear lobe. “Would you suck her tits while she fingers your sweet cunt? She’s so good with her hands. I bet she’d make you come.”

Fuck, she thought, if he kept talking like this _ he  _ was going to make her come.

He gathered her robes in his hand and slid them up her thighs until he could press his fingers into the wet satin of her knickers.

“Oh fuck, sweetheart, you’re so wet,” he groaned, thrusting his trouser-covered cock into her arse again.

Hermione clenched her thighs together in response. 

_ Don’t let him sweet talk to you into this. He’s drunk. He’s drunk, and he’s lost his goddamn mind. There’s no way Astoria would let him do this. Would she? _

He continued to rub at her knickers, even as she refused to part her legs for him. His skilled fingers found her clit, even through the damp fabric, and he rubbed tantalising circles that made her writhe in his hold. 

“I want to see you kiss her, like you did in that photo in the book, want to see you finger each other. I want to fuck you, make you come so hard on my cock.”

She could picture it in her mind, all of it: Draco, Astoria, and herself all in a naked tangle of limbs. She arched her back, making him groan and speed up the movement of his hand. He bit her ear lobe again, and it sent her over the edge, her pussy spasming in orgasm as she sagged in his hold. 

She stumbled and had to lean against a bookshelf to keep from falling when he suddenly let go of her. 

“Go now, Granger.” His voice was almost a feral growl. “Go now before I fuck you into the floor.”

She fled the library without looking back.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here is the next scene in this seduction. I don't know how often I'll be updating this, but I do have some additional chapters I'm writing/editing now. I am amazed at how many of you love this take on Astoria and on the idea of a Draco/Hermione/Astoria trio. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, following along, and sharing your thoughts with me!
> 
> -Elle

**Monday, July 16**

 

The rest of Saturday night had passed in sleeplessness, and she’d fled the manor as soon as dawn broke across the horizon, anxious to escape Draco and the memories of what they’d done in the library. 

She spent the day with the Potters and the Weasleys, attending a quidditch match with her friends and their families, followed by dinner at the Burrow. It had been nice to see her friends, although it was, as always, a painful reminder that their lives had moved in a far different direction from her own. 

Ginny had bubbled over with excitement over Hermione’s new hairstyle and fitted robes, and Molly had insisted that surely with Hermione’s new look, she’d ‘be able to catch a proper wizard and settle down.’ Harry had the beginnings of grey hair near his temples, likely from both age and the stress of his job, and Ron had the beginnings of a belly from too much butterbeer and not enough exercise. They had wives and children, but aside from that, Harry and Ron were still the same Harry and Ron she’d known and adored for so many years. 

Her weekend was a welcome distraction from the debauchery she’d left behind at Malfoy Manor. Molly insisted she spend the rest of the weekend at the Burrow, arguing that they never got to spend any time with her. She obliged, still not ready to face Draco.

But at last Monday morning rolled around, and Hermione reluctantly returned to Wiltshire. It had been cowardly to run away, to hide, she’d told herself. She wasn’t a coward. She was a Gryffindor, and she would face her problems. If she left now for good, she’d have to explain to Scorpius why she’d disappeared, and she’d still have to deal with the Malfoys as long as their son attended Hogwarts. It was better to face her problems and deal with them. 

She would finish the summer, do the job she was hired to do. She would help Scorpius as much as she could. She would be polite and professional, and she would keep her distance from one Draco Malfoy. When the summer ended, she would return to Scotland as planned, and that would be the end of that. 

That was what she told herself. 

She had a speech mentally prepared for Draco, to inform him that she would not engage in any improper behavior with him. She would respect his matrimonial bonding, even if he did not. She’d also tried to mentally psyche herself up for the idea that the erotic section of books in the library needed to be off-limits from this point forward. It was obvious her traitorous body had a mind of its own and could not be trusted with Draco’s collection of pornography. Plus the idea that Draco somehow  _ knew  _ which books she viewed and when was more than a little bit creepy.

She took a deep breath and steeled herself for a confrontation with Draco before opening opening the ornately carved double doors that led into the dining room. To her surprise though, Scorpius sat alone at the table, picking at his breakfast.

“Where is everyone?” she asked, accidentally startling the boy, which led him to knock over his glass of pumpkin juice. She righted it with her wand and cleaned up the mess before he could respond.

“Oh, thanks. Um, hi Professor Granger. Mum’s not feeling well, and dad took a tray upstairs to her,” he said.

She wasn’t sure what to say to that, but she noticed that Scorpius looked morose.

“Are you alright?” she asked, taking a seat across from him at the table. Draco’s elf, Tippy, popped in then and offered her a glass of pumpkin juice and a fresh pot of tea. 

Scorpius shrugged and looked away.

“It’s just different when mum’s sick,” he finally said.

Astoria had been vibrant and lively and utterly lovely to be around the entire summer, and she’d seen no indication that Draco’s wife was ill. She’d assumed some sort of temporary ailment afflicted the younger Mrs. Malfoy, but Scorpius’s response seemed to indicate otherwise.

Hermione frowned. “Is your mum sick often?” 

He shrugged again. “Not often. Sometimes.”

He seemed reluctant to say anything further, so she ate in silence. Scorpius finished his breakfast and was walking from the dining room when Draco entered. Hermione felt her heart skip a beat at the sight of him, and all of her firm plans to avoid him, to cut off any potential flirtation from him flew right out the window. 

Had he been remotely this attractive when they were students? Definitely not when he was younger, but if she was honest with herself, she would have to admit that she’d found him at least a tiny bit attractive in their post-war 8th year of school. He’d only gotten sexier as he’d aged. Her eyes traveled up his body, over the lightweight tailored charcoal wool trousers and starched blue button down shirt, and she tried not to think about how his body had felt pressed against her own.

Then she saw the look on his face: the pallor of skin, the dark circles under his eyes, the line creasing his brow. His normally handsome face was drawn into a frown. 

She watched in silence as he stopped Scorpius in the doorway and leaned in to whisper something to him. Scorpius nodded and then left, leaving a weary-looking Draco alone with her. An uncomfortable silence stretched between them until Hermione could take it no longer.

“Listen, Malfoy - Draco - I,” she started to say before he cut her off.

“Whatever you plan to say, please don’t,” he said. “Your disappearance Saturday made it painfully clear to me that you lack the bravery associated with your house. If you prefer to deny yourself and what you truly want because you’re too afraid, that’s fine, but I am in no mood to listen to your moralistic apologies and denials. Go back to your cauldrons and your books, Granger. Scorpius needs a day off. You can resume your lessons tomorrow.”

He turned then and walked out of the room, leaving a speechless Hermione behind.


	10. Chapter 10

**Tuesday, July 17**

 

She discreetly inquired after Astoria on Monday afternoon, questioning Tippy about his mistress. The little elf was taciturn and revealed little, other than saying that the Mistress Malfoy was not to be bothered. Hermione worried about the witch she’d come to consider a friend, but given Draco’s reaction to her Monday morning, she’d avoided seeking Astoria out. The last thing she wanted or needed right now was to be caught in Draco and Astoria’s personal rooms.  

A subdued Scorpius dutifully showed up for his lessons Tuesday morning. Astoria had not still not emerged from her suite of rooms, and the air in the manor was rife with tension. Was Astoria genuinely ill? Or had she found out about Draco and Hermione’s assignation in the library and fled the Manor in anger? Scorpius implied that his mother was ‘ill’ at times, and it was obvious that Draco had no problem cheating on his wife, even in their own home. Was illness the cover they used for their child when an angry and hurt Astoria left home? Hermione tried to quell the anxiety in her stomach over the possibility. She’d never meant to hurt anyone. She wasn’t a homewrecker!

She spent most of the day in the library with Scorpius, working on charms and transfiguration. She carefully avoided even looking in the direction of  _ that _ corner of the library, where the knew  _ Magick Moste Intimate _ and the rest of the collection were stored.

They were still in the library that afternoon when Draco entered. He removed a stack of parchment from a drawer, gathered a handful of books and then approached them.

“Scorpius, how are your lessons coming along?” he asked, looking down at the son who looked almost to be his mirror image.

“Very well, father. After I finish my essay, Professor Granger said we can go outside to try some of these spells,” Scorpius said formally, glancing up at his father before turning his attention back to the parchment before him. They’d been alternating between practical transfiguration and charms lessons, followed by short blocks of time spent reading and writing, and she’d found that her pupil did better this way than when he had to focus on one thing for long periods of time. 

“Come see me in the study before dinner. I want to hear what you’ve learned today,” he said.

Hermione kept her eyes on the book in front of her, afraid to make eye contact with Draco for fear of what he’d say or do. It bothered her to admit to herself that she feared, well, not  _ Draco _ per se, but how her body reacted to him. 

She could feel his eyes on her, could tell her was watching her, studying her, but he said nothing. He always spoke to her in the past when he dropped in on their lessons. Instead he turned on his heel and left, closing the library doors behind him.

“Father is in a foul mood,” Scorpius observed.

“What makes you say that?” she asked in surprise, looking at the closed doors.

Scorpius shrugged. “He just is. I can tell. Besides, he didn’t talk to you like he always does. I’m finished with my essay on conjuring fire. Can we try it outside now? I think I can do it this time and control the flames.”

“The bluebell flames? Let me look over your essay, and then we can go outside,” she said, mentally cursing herself for not realising how observant her young pupil was. Just what else had Scorpius noticed? 

Being outdoors did a world of good for Scorpius, who’d perked up and was in a markedly better mood by dinner.

To Hermione’s relief and surprise, Astoria joined them for dinner that night. Draco’s wife looked pale and wan, but she was dressed in pretty periwinkle robes, her hair was styled, and her face made up. 

She was already seated beside Draco, to the right of the head of the table when Hermione walked into the room and stopped short at the sight of her. Her hands felt clammy as she looked at Draco’s wife. Would Astoria curse her? Accuse her - rightly - of adultery? 

Instead, Astoria’s face lit up when she saw Hermione.

“Scorpius was just telling me that he mastered bluebell flames today! That’s so exciting!” Astoria said with a smile.

Hermione let out a breath of relief, tension leaving her shoulders as she approached the table and took her seat. Perhaps Astoria had been ill after all.

“Yes, he’s worked very hard, and he has improved tremendously this summer. We thought it best to stay clear of the Manor whilst casting with fire. Even bluebell flames can be dangerous if they get out of control,” she said.

Dinner began then as if the last few days had not happened. It was strange, to say the least.

Draco and Scorpius were both silent about whatever ailment had afflicted their wife and mother, and Hermione was left to wonder if their silence was some weird pureblood thing she didn’t understand. Despite living her entire adulthood in the magical world, some things occasionally still took her by surprise, and there was a lot of pureblood culture that she still found odd. 

“It’s lovely to see you again. I missed our afternoon tea,” Hermione admitted truthfully, hoping she wasn’t about to breach some sort of pureblood etiquette.

“Oh, it was nothing. Just a touch ill, that’s all,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I heard you spent the weekend away with your friends?” 

Hermione responded, detailing her weekend with the Weasleys and the Potters. Astoria tucked into her shepherd’s pie with gusto and listened attentively, commenting where appropriate. Scorpius looked rather happy to see his mother up and about, and Draco, she noted silently to herself, seemed to relax marginally as his wife ate. 

Hermione went to bed that night with more questions than answers.


	11. Chapter 11

**Thursday, July 19**

 

By Thursday, the rhythm of Malfoy Manor had seemingly returned to its previous state, and yet somehow everything was different. Scorpius returned to his bubbly, active self as soon as Astoria’s health returned, but Draco was still distant with her. He joined them all for meals and was affectionate with his wife and son but rarely even made eye contact with Hermione. 

It was what she’d wanted, what she’d planned to insist had to happen moving forward, but it still hurt to see it in practise. She’d come to the painful realisation that she’d become accustomed to Draco’s lingering touches and flirtatious remarks. 

That afternoon, Scorpius struggled with a first-year potion for fire protection, accidentally exploding the contents of the cauldron. Fortunately no one was injured, but she and her young pupil both ended up with a foul-smelling, sticky red substance on their robes. She dismissed him with a sigh and returned to her room to shower and change. Scorpius was improving in some areas, but his inability to focus meant that he’d likely never have his father’s skills in potions. She’d asked some of her fellow professors during the last school term for suggestions on how to help her young pupil, and many were equally at a loss. Intense tutoring was the recommendation, but now that she’d spent half the summer working with him one-on-one she could see improvement but not to the degree she’d hoped.

After her shower, Hermione pulled on a deep purple summer robe. She really should not have let Astoria talk her into so many frivolous purchases, she thought to herself. She did admittedly love the hair relaxation potion, but she wasn’t sure she’d have much occasion to wear the clothes that often once she returned to Hogwarts.

She wandered into the bedroom, tugging a brush through her wet hair, still marveling at how easy it was now to style her hair. Halfway across the room, she froze.

There was a book on her bed. 

She didn’t think it had been there before, but she’d admittedly been distracted by the noxious botched potion on her clothing. She reached for her wand and cast a series of revealing spells designed to check for hidden curses and hexes. The book was clean. 

Draco had done this. She was certain of it. He’d noticed that she’d been avoiding the erotica and was now bringing it to her. She wasn’t sure if she should be angry about that or uncomfortable with the idea that he’d obviously been in her bedroom. 

As she lifted the book and flipped it open, a slip of ivory parchment fell from it. Hermione set the book aside to reach for the parchment.

_ Hermione, _

_ So sorry to miss our teas. Sleeping and reading were all I had the energy to do. I finished this last night, and you simply must read it! I cannot wait to discuss it with you when you finish! _

_ Astoria _

Hermione frowned. She and Astoria had discussed books a few times during their almost-daily tea time. The younger witch occasionally read books about history, but she mostly preferred fiction. Hermione liked fiction, but she was often busy with school or research and rarely had much opportunity to indulge. 

The book was entitled “The Claiming of Catherina.” She’d not heard of it, but then, she was hardly up on the latest popular novels. Books in the magical world often lacked the colorful, artfully designed covers of muggle paperbacks and the accompanying summaries on the back, so she wasn’t sure what this was about. She set it aside, determined to start reading it that night so she could discuss it with Astoria.

A shriek and then a giggle drew Hermione from her thoughts. She set the book aside and wandered to her bedroom window. Her room overlooked a section of the manor’s lush gardens, and there in the midst of all the flowers and greenery, were Draco and Astoria. 

Hermione watched as Draco wrapped his arms around Astoria from behind and embraced her before tickling her sides. She shrieked again with laughter and doubled over. He did not let her go, bending with her, and then pulling her upright and laughing as he stopped the tickling and hugged her body close to his. Hermione felt vaguely guilty about witnessing this private moment. It was like watching a scene from a film - the perfect, beautiful couple, frolicking in a garden so flawless that only magic could have rendered it so. For a brief moment, she could forget that Draco had come onto her in the library as he had. For a brief moment, she could forget that he’d kissed her, caressed her, forced an orgasm from her. It was so hard for Hermione to reconcile the Draco who seemed eager to cheat on his wife with the Draco who so lovingly embraced that wife amidst the foxglove and wisteria. 

Draco pressed kisses against a still giggling Astoria’s neck. She wriggled in his hold and tilted her head back to kiss his mouth. Hermione drew in a sharp intake of breath as she watched his hand wander over the silky fabric of her peach-coloured robes to cup her breast. Surely they weren’t going to go at it in the midst of the garden. 

_ I should walk away _ , she told herself.  _ I should not watch them. _

But just as she had that night in the hall, when she’d stumbled across him taking her on the table in the conservatory, Hermione was unable to walk away.

Astoria’s head fell back onto Draco’s shoulder after their kiss, and he returned his attention to her neck. The way she arched her back, pressing her breast into his hand, made Hermione shiver. Draco had held her like that in the library. He’d grabbed her from behind, ground his erection into her arse as he’d touched her. It was one thing to watch Draco and Astoria together. It was quite another to watch them when she knew  _ exactly _ how good it felt to be touched like that by Draco Malfoy.

She couldn’t help the pang of jealousy she felt from her lonely bedroom.

Astoria’s eyes were closed as Draco’s skilled hands teased her body. Hermione closed her own eyes in frustration.

“You can’t have him. You can’t. Stop driving yourself insane. This isn’t like you,” she whispered to herself. 

Hermione forced herself out of the bedroom, away from the tantalizing scene in the gardens. She ended up back in the potions lab, using magic to clean up the rest of the mess Scorpius had made. She was acutely aware of her body’s response to the scene she’d witnessed in the garden. Not to mention the other scenes in the conservatory and in Draco’s thrice-damned magical book. 

She dismissed Scorpius for the rest of the afternoon and spent the evening delving into her own research. Even so, Draco and his beautiful, vivacious wife were not far from her thoughts.

The more she pondered her situation, the more she came to her words from earlier in the day: this really was not like her. She’d never been this libidinous, this sexual. She’d been a walking, talking fount of arousal for weeks now.

The possibility hit her like a bludger then: could she have been slipped a lust potion? 

“You idiot, why didn’t you even consider that?” she murmured to herself. She rushed across the lab to her stack of books and began thumbing through them in search of antidote potions.

She wasn’t spouting dopey declarations of love for anyone, nor had she noticed any favorite scents, so amortentia wasn’t a likely culprit. Surely a lust potion then. The typical lust potion was white and semi-translucent with a pearlescent sheen. She’d made it once as a hen’s night gift for Ginny before her wedding, after making her friend promise that she would never, ever share with Hermione the details of using that potion with Harry. She had no desire to think of the wizard she loved like a brother in any kind of sexual way. Ginny had drunkenly declared that the potion resembled ‘shimmery semen,’ a reference Hermione had been unable to forget. It was odorless but not tasteless. Still, the sweet flavour was mild enough it could be hidden by a strongly spiced food or drink. Had one of the Malfoy elves spiked her food? Or had Draco done it himself?

 

Ultimately, it did not matter how it had been administered. She’d obviously been slipped a lust potion, and she would fix this. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize the scenes from this story are short, which makes for short chapters. It is what it is. This is not going to be a novel length story. There WILL be a threesome, and that will likely end up being the longest chapter in the story. 
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading and following along on this journey.


	12. Chapter 12

 

###  Friday, July 20

 

Midnight had long passed by the time Hermione finished brewing an antidote potion and let it cool enough to drink. She sipped the bitter solution and waited to feel something, anything. An antidote to amortentia brought the affected witch or wizard’s mind back to a state of clarity within moments, and the antidote potion she used should do the same. 

Except that it didn’t. 

Nothing happened. 

There was no wave of clarity in her mind, no change she could feel in her body. 

She double-checked the potion recipe, looking for any slight errors she could have made. But there were none. She had brewed it correctly. Hermione bit her lip as she cleaned up her workspace and shut down the lab for the night. 

_ Maybe you had to be aroused whilst drinking it to see a noticeable effect _ , she thought to herself as she traversed the dark, quiet halls of the manor. That theory made sense. She’d felt rather angst-ridden in the lab that evening, but not aroused. 

Hermione returned to the luxurious guest room she called her own and slipped into comfortable nightclothes. It was incredibly late, but her mind was too keyed up to sleep. She sighed in frustrated when she realised she’d not brought any books with her from the library either. 

She spotted it then on the bureau: the book Astoria had left for her. It was likely some sort of silly novel, the sort of thing the muggles liked to call “chick lit,” but maybe it would help her sleep. 

The title, “The Claiming of Catherina,” evoked a feeling of historical romance or even Shakespeare, a la ‘The Taming of the Shrew.’ She settled into bed, prepared to read an absurd bodice-ripper of a novel. 

To Hermione’s surprise, the book was set in modern times. Catherina was a sensible witch working for a vaguely described generic department in the Ministry of Magic who seemed to have a rather mundane life. It wasn’t exactly brilliant writing, but it looked to be a quick and easy read. 

Catherina soon met Rex, who was basically a witch’s wet dream.  _ Or the author’s fantasy _ , she thought to herself as she read the glowing description of Rex’s chiseled features, sparkling blue eyes, and jet black hair. In addition to his absurd good looks, this character also apparently possessed an enormous fortune and political clout.

“This book is utter garbage,” she muttered to herself, a few chapters in. “Men like Rex don’t pick women like Catherina.”

She wondered why Astoria gushed so heavily about this book. She set it aside in irritation before she drifted to sleep, annoyed by the book, the potion, and her overall situation.

 

~oOo~

  
  


Hermione felt no different when she awoke Friday morning, and she wondered if she’d somehow incorrectly brewed the antidote potion. She’d been tired when she made it last night. Perhaps she’d stirred the cauldron too many times, or counted out her ingredients incorrectly. It wasn’t like her to make errors in a discipline as exacting as potion-making, but errors could happen if the maker was distracted or too tired. She would just have to make another batch.

Hermione revised her plans for the day and kept Scorpius in the lab, making him redo first year potions whilst she re-brewed an antidote potion. To her surprise, he managed to make an herbicide potion that would have earned him a high mark in her class. She set him to making a cure for boils as she continued her brewing.

Draco checked in on them shortly before their mid-day meal, startling Hermione.

“How are we doing today?” he asked, eyeing them both.

“I did it, father! I made the herbicide potion! Professor Granger said it was good!” Scorpius said excitedly, setting aside his stirring rod.

Draco raised an eyebrow and looked at Hermione. “Is that so?”

“Yes, he did it correctly, and he’s brewing a cure for boils now. Scorpius, it’s time to add the porcupine quills now, and then we’ll have about 35 minutes we can join your father for a quick meal before we come back to your potion.”

“Congratulations, son. I’m very proud of you.”

Hermione’s heart thudded at the way Scorpius’s face lit up with happiness at Draco’s praise. She couldn’t help but wonder how often Draco had heard those words from his own father. It was obvious Scorpius adored his parents.

“What are you brewing, Granger? That smells like an antidote potion,” he asked, drawing her from her thoughts.

“Well spotted. It is.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why brew an antidote potion. It’s not exactly master level research, and we keep them in stock here.”

She blinked at him momentarily as she tried to think of a quick answer that was not, ‘I’m pretty certain you’ve dosed me with a lust potion, you horny bastard.’

“I frequently test my own experimental potions, so having a stock bezoars and antidote potions handy is very important,” she mumbled.

He raised an eyebrow at her. “You test on yourself? That’s incredibly...brave. Or stupid. I don’t know. But don’t waste your time brewing antidotes. I’ll have one of the elves bring you some of ours.”

He turned on his heel and walked out of the lab. She sighed and then cast a stasis charm on her own potion and escorted her young charge to lunch.

After lunch, Hermione finished brewing her potion and took a dose of it, setting aside the potions Draco had delivered for her. 

She felt… nothing. She stood there in the potions lab as Scorpius brewed and felt absolutely  no different at all. 

Maybe it was because she wasn’t thinking about anything particularly sexy. She let her mind go back to the memory of Draco kissing her in the library. He’d smelled so good, and his body felt utterly divine pressed up against his. It had been so long, so very long since a man had kissed her, caressed her, treated her as if she was a goddess. Draco may have left her clothing intact that night, but he’d stripped her bare in so many other ways. She felt a wave of arousal course through her body and something inside her clench involuntarily in a wholly pleasant way that made her immediately think _ ‘I need more.’  _

_ Fuck. Well, so much for that _ , she thought bitterly. She was absolutely certain she’d brewed the potion correctly, which meant she’d not been dosed with a lust potion after all. 

Maybe a charm then? She withdrew her wand and cast a quiet _ finite incantatum  _ on herself, hoping to cancel any magic that had been cast upon her. She still felt no different at all. 

_ Maybe this is who you really are _ , her mind unhelpfully supplied.  _ Maybe you really are this needful, writhing, hot mess of a witch who needs to be taken hard against the nearest flat surface. Over and over again. _

She stowed her wand and tried not to think about that.


	13. Chapter 13

###  Saturday, July 21

 

Astoria was not in the conservatory when Hermione arrived for their regular afternoon tea, but she assumed her friend would be there because a steaming pot of tea and plates of scones were set out on the very table she’d watch Draco fuck Astoria on that night. 

_ ‘Don’t think about that. Please, oh please don’t think about that,’ _ she told herself. Naturally though the memories of that night flooded her mind - graphic, vivid pictures of Astoria on the table, legs wound around Draco as he fucked her. Her pale breasts had bounced with each thrust of his cock, and Hermione was suddenly reminded of Draco’s words that night in the library:  _ “She has the most perfect tits, so soft, with perfect pink nipples. I’d love to see you suck on her tits.” _

Hermione knew exactly how perfect they were, how Astoria had palmed those breasts and tugged her rosy nipples as she’d arched her back in pleasure. A wave of arousal washed over her, and she shifted in her seat, pressing her thighs together to create a tantalizing little bit of friction between her legs. 

She sighed and cast another finite incantatum, hoping against hope that doing so would somehow cancel any charm on her, even as part of her silently acknowledged that it now seemed very unlikely Draco or Astoria had used magic against her in some way. She stowed the wand and looked back at the table to see if it evoked any more deviant memories.

It did.

Her wicked mind shifted then to the images in Draco’s fantasy book, to the moving pictures of her and Astoria in a dressing room. Did she want Astoria, want her sexually? Hermione bit down on a fingernail as she pondered the idea. She’d certainly never been with another woman - witch or muggle - but living in a girls’ dorm for seven years had given her more than a few glimpses of naked and half-naked witches. She’d looked. Of course she’d looked. For an insecure teenage girl, it was a chance to take a peek at her dorm mates and see how she measured up. Lavender was voluptuous almost to the point of chubbiness, but she was easily the most comfortable with her body, the most likely to prance around the dorm in just her knickers. Parvati was elegant and graceful, long black hair winding around brown limbs and brushing over her breasts. Ginny was pale skin and freckles in an athletic body. She was defined, lean muscles and…

_ Fuck. _

Hermione breathed out a curse. Maybe there was something there. Maybe there’d been something there all along. Was that why she’d failed so miserably in her previous relationships, she wondered? Was it because she was secretly - so secretly she hadn’t even realised it herself - attracted to witches instead?

But no, she thought, furrowing her brow in concentration. That couldn’t be, because she was obviously, stupidly, attracted to Draco Malfoy. There was no doubt in her mind that she found HIM attractive. She _ liked  _ men. She did! She loved the feel of a broad, hard chest pressed into her own, the weight of a wizard’s body on top of hers, the feel of a hard cock pushing into her pussy. She loved the feel of a wizard’s stubble lightly scraping her neck, of his larger hands tangling in her hair. 

Oh god, this really  _ was _ her, she thought to herself. It wasn’t a potion or a charm. She’d turned into a quivering, needy, aroused mess.

“Oh, good, you’re here already!” Astoria came into the room then, her face alight with excitement. 

She was stunning. 

This was not a revelation for Hermione, per se, as she had thought Astoria rather attractive before. Today though, with the prurient thoughts racing through her mind, Hermione looked upon Astoria - and her cleavage - with fresh eyes. 

_ “She has the most perfect tits… I’d love to see you suck on her tits.” _

The thought struck her then with almost painful clarity.

_ I’d love to suck on her tits too. Just once. Just to see what it’s like.  _

She was attracted to Astoria Malfoy. 

In the span of less than two months, she had gone from believing herself to be a hopeless asexual being, incapable of satisfying herself with another person to being attracted to both a wizard and a witch. And that wizard wanted her. He’d made himself very clear on that front, but she refused to believe his drunken words about Astoria. There was no way the beautiful witch before her would be interested in what Draco had proposed.

Hermione sucked in a deep breath and tried to tuck away all deviant thoughts about both of the Malfoys.

“You haven’t poured tea?” Astoria observed as she sat down. It was obvious that whatever had plagued her before was now gone, as Draco’s wife was back to her bubbly self. 

Hermione flushed, certain her cheeks were bright pink, given where her thoughts had been. 

“I didn’t want to start without you.”

“Nonsense,” she said with a wave of her hand. “I wouldn’t want the tea to get cold.”

“You’re in a good mood,” Hermione observed as they poured their tea and filled their plates.

“I have the BEST news!” Astoria said excitedly. “Draco agreed!!!”

Hermione, who was still stuck on memories of Draco and Astoria in the solarium and of insane Draco’s insistence that Astoria would somehow be okay with them all  _ together _ , nearly choked on her tea. 

“Draco agreed to what?” she managed to sputter.

“Are you alright?”   
  
“Yes. Peachy. What did Draco agree to?” 

“Oh, yes! My idea for a reception! Remember?”

Hermione did not remember, but Astoria did not seem to notice.

“You know I adore my husband, but he’s not the most sociable of wizards, and really he should be, I mean, from a business standpoint, at least.”

Astoria chattered on, and Hermione frowned, remembering the loud, arrogant child Draco had been. Anti-social wasn’t exactly how she would have described him as a student. He’d certainly been withdrawn after he’d been marked as a Death Eater, and he’d largely kept to himself during their 8th year. Given how welcoming Draco had been to her this summer, she’d assumed he had resumed a more outgoing persona. 

“So you see,” Astoria continued, drawing Hermione from her thoughts, “A reception for the companies with whom Malfoy Enterprises does business with just makes sense from a goodwill-building standpoint. Draco doesn’t like parties, but I begged and pleaded and used every ounce of my feminine wiles, and he said yes! I’m SO glad you’re here! I’m going to need so much help!”

“Wait. What?”

“I mean, there are so many decisions to make. The gardens are absolutely perfect in the summer as long as we don’t have another heat wave. But of course there is the risk of rain,” Astoria said before taking a long sip of her tea. “I suppose we could rent a large tent though. Or maybe see if the elves could do a shielding charm large enough to protect the space from the rain? It feels like everyone does the same cocktail parties every year. What do you think about a theme? Would that be too odd or would it come across as too muggle? I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with muggle, I just heard that they like theme parties.”

“I, um, I have no opinion whatsoever on theme parties,” Hermione admitted. “I hate to ask, but is this the sort of thing that Draco’s parents would attend?”

“Ugh. No, thank Merlin and Morgana!” 

Hermione raised an eyebrow, and Astoria leaned in toward her, looking as if she had a secret to share.

“It was quite the scandal - Lucius had to hand over control of most of the business to Draco after the war as a condition of his parole. He’d been managing it from Azkaban if you can believe that, using solicitors and the like although perhaps not with the best of success, but the Ministry said if he wanted out, they didn’t trust him to manage the business and the finances,” Astoria confided.

“Really? I hadn’t heard that. They can do that?” Hermione asked in surprise.

Astoria nodded, and Hermione caught a whiff of the other witch’s perfume, a heady mix of patchouli, rose, and bergamot. She caught another glimpse of cleavage too as Astoria leaned in.

“Everyone pretty much accepted that Draco hadn’t had a lot of say in what happened during the war, but Lucius… well, that’s a different story. They didn’t want to let him out of Azkaban and risk him stirring up trouble, so the thought was that if Draco took over and managed all of the Galleons, Lucius would be a bit, well,  _ neutralised _ , I suppose.”

“Did that work?”

“More or less. It was all very dramatic. Lucius took it rather personally of course, but I can’t say that I blame him in some respects. He’s very limited in how much he can interact with Malfoy businesses. Forced retirement, basically. It’s why he and Narcissa spend so much time abroad.”

“Wow. I had no idea,” Hermione admitted. “That must be nice, not having to deal with him being underfoot.”

Astoria shrugged. “He’s a pompous old bastard, but Narcissa is quite lovely when she wants to be.”

Hermione nearly choked on her tea again. She could not imagine how awful it would be to have to live with Lucius Malfoy, but somehow she got the impression that Astoria had enough sass and fire in her to put the man in his place. 

“Narcissa is brilliant at planning parties though, so I do hate that she’ll not be round for this one. But YOU’RE here!” 

“Astoria I know nothing about planning parties.”

“That’s not what I’ve heard. I’ve heard Hogwarts does an annual ball every year, sometimes for Yule, sometimes for Samhain or for commencement.”

“Yes, that’s true, and yes, the faculty is involved in planning it, but that’s very different from planning a large scale society event.”

“Tippy?” Astoria called out. The little elf popped into the conservatory, dressed in a pressed blue and white tea towel.

“Mistress is calling Tippy?”

“Will you retrieve the catalogue from my bedroom please?”

The elf disappeared in a pop of magic and returned moments later, presenting the item to Astoria.

“So I had this idea…” Astoria said as she flipped through the glossy pages. “What do you think about doing a Chinese-themed reception?”

“Chinese-themed?”

“See?” She held the catalogue out to Hermione, showing her a photo of red paper lanterns and fairy lights strung across a plaza. “This is from a wizarding community near Guangdong in China, from their Chinese new year celebration. I was thinking we could recreate that look but in the gardens here. We have a koi pond and everything!”

“It’s certainly different,” Hermione admitted as she flipped through the different images. “I’ve not seen anything like this done here on a large scale, at least not through Hogwarts or the Ministry. Isn’t Chinese new year in February though?”

Astoria shrugged. “Technically, yes, but it’s not an actual Chinese new year celebration. It’s just the theme for the décor and the menu. Besides, I consulted a book on Chinese astrology, and did you know that 2012 is the year of the dragon?”

“I…actually I did  _ not  _ know that,” she admitted.

“It’s too perfect! Hermione, Draco’s name literally means DRAGON! What better visual to remind the business world that Draco is in charge here, not his father?”

Hermione pondered the idea. It actually was rather brilliant, and how fortuitous that the Chinese zodiac corresponded with Draco’s name this year. A themed party like this, done on the scale that befitted the Malfoy name, would be incredibly memorable and would likely accomplish exactly what Astoria had in mind.

“I like it,” she said after a moment.

“Really?” Astoria was on the edge of her seat, practically vibrating with energy.

“Yeah, I do. Wait. When you talk about dragon visuals at this party, you don’t mean REAL dragons, do you?”

Astoria laughed delightfully, tickled at Hermione’s question. “See how they have these dragon displays? They’re charmed to move about like the real thing, but they’re far more colorful! I want these for the party. But now that you mention it…”

“No. No real dragons.”

“Why ever not?”

“Um, because I think your husband might object to a dragon roasting his guests and burning his family’s ancestral home to the ground. I’m not an expert on business, but I would think that setting fire to your clients is bad for the bottom line.”

“Oh Hermione, you’re so dramatic! I didn’t mean a BIG dragon. Maybe a baby dragon? Hold on – give me that back and let me make a note in the margin about baby dragons. This event will be the talk of wizarding Britain if I have a dragon here!”

Hermione could only stare dumbfounded at her friend as Astoria rattled off an endless list of details she needed to see to for this event, including, yes, whether or not she could procure a baby dragon to entertain her guests.


	14. Saturday, July 22

Sunday, July 22

Astoria had gone into full party-planning mode the next morning, and Hermione was in awe. The younger witch moved gracefully about the manor with Tippy and three other house elves trailing behind her as she talked about her vision. To Hermione’s surprise, Astoria actually asked Tippy’s opinion about shield charms and the arrangement of furnishing and lighting in the gardens. 

Scorpius looked less than thrilled at the idea of a black tie reception and seemed relieved when his father informed him over dinner that evening that he could spend the weekend at a friend’s home instead. After dinner, Scorpius departed for a quick flight about the manor grounds on his broom, whilst Astoria left to floo call a wizarding company in Shanghai about lanterns for her event.

Draco sat at the head of the dining room table, an amused look on his face as he watched his wife’s svelte backside as she left the room.

“It was kind of you to release Scorpius from the party,” she said gently. “I can’t imagine a 12 year old boy wanting to attend a formal reception.”

He smirked at her. “Oh, he’ll change his mind if Astoria gets her way about dragons.”

Her mouth fell open. “Please tell me you two aren’t serious. Dragons? Real ones?”

“Why not?” he shrugged, and she was reminded that the wealthy had a totally different world view and ideas about what was or was not over the top. 

“Don’t you think it’s a bit much?” she prompted, already knowing the answer.

“We’re Malfoys. If this is meant to be a show of the business’ strength and a reminder that my father is no longer at the helm, a dragon leaves a bloody strong impression.”

Well, it was hard to argue with that, she thought. 

She watched him take a sip from his wine glass. He turned and glanced out the window, watching his son soar through the sky over the manor grounds, unconcerned about the potential for injury. He rotated his wrist, lightly swirling the pinot noir. He was the epitome of careless elegance, and she hated that just being in his presence was enough to make her want to climb into his lap and grind her body against his.

“You will come to the reception, won’t you?” he prompted, still watching Scorpius.

“Astoria seems to want me there,” she said with a shrug.

“We both want you there, and I’ve no doubt my wife would love the opportunity to help you select a dress.”

Hermione snorted at that. There was no ‘help you’ about it - Astoria would dress her like a muggle Barbie doll, no doubt. It was a pity Scorpius had no sisters. Astoria struck Hermione as the sort of witch who’d adore having a daughter. She wondered if the Malfoys had ever considered having a second child.

“Your wife has excellent taste,” she said diplomatically instead. 

It was Draco’s turn to snicker. “If by excellent taste you mean expensive, then yes, you are correct. Let her pick out a dress for you, and let her pay for it.”

“Don’t be silly, I have my own money.”

“Malfoys aren’t ‘silly,’ Granger, and I am well aware you have money. I am paying you, after all. Astoria likes you - a lot - and outfitting you for this event will make her happy. I want her to be happy,” he said, finally glancing away from Scorpius to look at her.

“You want her to be happy… so you molest the help when she’s not looking? I don’t get you, Malfoy.” The words slipped from her lips before she could stop herself.

He narrowed his eyes at her. “I recall you being a rather active participant that night in the library, oh pious one. And as I recall, I told you that it isn’t cheating if she’s there as well.”

She stared at him for a long moment, surprised that he was still talking about this whole preposterous idea of the three of them together.

“You’re insane,” she finally breathed, her eyes locked with his.

He shrugged. “She’s always fantasized about it.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“You can’t be serious.” She stared hard at him, looking for some sort of tell - a hint of a smirk, a wink, anything - that would indicate that he was teasing her. 

He met her stare without flinching.

“She could tell you the story sometime, if you ask. She found a dirty magazine in the Slytherin dorms, the sort of thing teenage wizards wank to, and it included some rather scandalous images of two witches together.”

“You expect me to believe that your wife saw wizarding porn at Hogwarts and now wants a threesome with another witch?”

He grinned wickedly. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. You can’t begin to imagine what a turn on it is for a wizard to hear that his wife fantasises about bringing another witch into their bed. It took her a rather long time to admit it, and when she finally did, I swear, I fucked her six ways from Sunday. I don’t think we left the bedroom that weekend.”

Hermione flushed and looked away, trying hard not to think about the mental picture his words conjured. Then something else occurred to her.

“She’s had this fantasy for years and nothing EVER came of it?” she managed to ask. “It sounds like you were obviously willing.”

“Her older sister’s a right bitch and the controlling sort. Astoria didn’t exactly have a lot of freedom in school, and then we married as soon as we finished Hogwarts. She never had the opportunity to experiment.”

“So I’m an experiment then. Charming.”

“No, Granger - Hermione - you’re not. She’s fantasized for some time about bringing another witch into our bed, but we’ve never done it.”

She swallowed hard at this admission. “Never?” she whispered.

He shook his head.

“Why not? Your wife gives you a free pass, and you’ve not taken it?”

He frowned at her categorisation of their situation. “It is not a ‘free pass.’ We said that if we found someone with whom we both felt comfortable, someone for whom we both held a sincere attraction, then we would be open to the idea of bringing that witch into our bed. We are admittedly both very particular in our tastes, although I can’t say that I ever thought you would end up being the witch we both wanted.”

She frowned. “Did you… oh my god, did you invite me here this summer for that?!”

“What? Merlin, no!” he exclaimed. “We invited you here this summer because I’d rather not have to spring for an entire new potions lab at Hogwarts when my son accidentally blows it up because he’s not paying attention in class. Scorpius genuinely needs help, and you’re the best. If you don’t believe me, you can ask Minerva McGonagall - I asked for her recommendations on a summer tutor for Scorpius, and you were her top pick. But had I known you looked like this, I’d have approached you sooner.”

“It’s wrong. You’re my employer.”

The words seemed prudish and wholly unbelievable on her tongue, but she said them anyway.

He shrugged. “And I won’t be after another month or so, but it will admittedly be harder to fuck you if you’re in Scotland and we’re here.”

She watched in wide-eyed silence as he downed the rest of his wine and set the glass aside.

“I think I’m going to head outside and watch Scorpius fly for a bit,” he said, a hint of a smile on his face.

She sucked in a deep breath as he paused behind her chair on his way out of the dining room. He leaned over, and his breath was hot on her ear and her neck, and she jumped, startled, as his hand slipped down to faintly caress her breast.

“Think about it Granger. Think about it, and be the Gryffindor I know you are.”

He moved back abruptly, and before her brain could put together a response, before she could even think to breathe, he’d thrust his hands into his trouser pockets and strolled from the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the long wait for an update. I took 9 hours of grad school this semester, on top of full-time work and parenthood. Not one of my better decisions, but I survived. I am getting ready to head out of town for Christmas, but there WILL be another update for this story before the end of 2018. Thank you to everyone who is still waiting patiently and for everyone who has left kudos or taken the time to share your thoughts with me about this story! 
> 
> Cheers,  
> Elle


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know I promised an update before the end of the year, but with travel and holiday craziness, the days slipped away from me. Enjoy this short, smutty interlude and my deep apologies for being a day late.
> 
> -Elle

###  Tuesday, July 24

 

Draco buried himself in his study after that, and she saw little of him, which she told herself was for the best. His words haunted her, and she found herself thinking often of their conversation, of his insistence that Astoria was genuinely turned on by the idea of being with another witch. Did Astoria really want her? 

Hermione had given up lying to herself. The painful, sinful, shameful truth was that she wanted Draco Malfoy, and yes, she wanted Astoria Malfoy too. She’d progressed to wondering what it would be like to be with both of them. 

Never before had she pondered a threesome. How did it even work? Her traitorous body obviously wanted Draco to fuck her into the mattress. Would Astoria genuinely be okay with another woman having sex with her husband? Would she want to watch? Draco said she liked watching, but did he mean it? Would she, Hermione, be comfortable being watched? What if they got started and Astoria changed her mind? Would she ask Hermione to leave their home? Would it ruin their friendship? 

Even worse were her fears that a sexual relationship with the Malfoys could ruin her professionally if it all went poorly. What if a jealous Astoria accused her of using her position in their home, her job as Scorpius’s tutor, to seduce Draco? She loved teaching, and there weren’t exactly a wealth of teaching jobs available in magical Britain. 

All of these thoughts tumbled about in her head as she ran a hot bath in her elegant ensuite white marble bathroom and added luxurious oils to the water. Brewing for hours over a cauldron often left her shoulders tense and her back sore, and it was a relief to soak in the scented water. 

She continued to ponder this apparent fantasy of Draco and Astoria’s as she reclined in the water. There were so many reasons to say ‘no,’ so many good reasons to keep her head and her wits about her and walk away from this insanity. And yet… and yet the very idea had crawled into the recesses of her mind, and it refused to leave. Despite all of her logic and her best intentions, her nipples hardened at the thought of her new friend watching Draco fuck her. She’d watched in secret as Draco had fucked Astoria, and it was undeniably a turn on. What would it be like to watch them openly, to be able to reach out and touch them both?

Hermione trailed wet fingertips over her breasts, circling her nipples and tugging at them, unable to stop the gasp that slipped from her lips.

Would Draco fuck her first? Or fuck Astoria? How would they transition to witch-on-witch sexual contact, which Draco claimed his wife wanted to explore? The more she thought about it, the more she accepted that she was indeed curious about sex with another woman. 

She shifted, moving closer to one of the ornate silver faucets. Hot water continued to pour into the tub, and she wondered how it would feel on her body. She’d read somewhere that water flowing from a faucet could feel like the wet laps of a hot tongue. She’d never dared try such a thing at Hogwarts, and she’d never before stayed anywhere with a bathtub and faucet suitably positioned for it. Still tugging at her nipple, she spread her legs and carefully positioned herself under the flow of water. 

“Ohhhh…” 

She was unable to contain a soft moan as the water fell on her clit, slipping around the sensitive folds of her pussy. 

She closed her eyes and the faucet, the bathtub, the water all disappeared. In her mind, the tugging on her nipples became Draco’s graceful fingers. The side of the bathtub and the water supporting her became his body, lithe and hard. And the flow of water, the unyielding lapping at her clit became Astoria’s lips and tongue. 

She arched her back and shifted her hips, trying to find the best angle.    


“Oh fuck…” she whispered, as pleasure spiked in her body. This was good, this was so good, so much better than her fingers. 

She pictured Draco, the greedy expression he’d surely have on his face as he watched Astoria taste another witch. She’d felt the undeniable bulge in his trousers that night in the library as he’d brought her to orgasm. She pictured it now, how she’d feel the naked length of his cock pressed against her backside as he held her for Astoria. Maybe he’d release her breasts, tell her to tease her nipples herself, so he could hold her thighs open for his wife. Maybe he’d wedge his cock between the cheeks of her arse so he could thrust just so, to give himself a bit of friction while he watched them together. He would bite her ear lobe and whisper dirty, dirty things to her. 

And then Astoria… Hermione could picture Astoria’s silky auburn hair spread out over her thigh, her tongue lapping at her pussy. In her mind, she could see Astoria look up at her and Draco, at their combined expressions of lust. She could picture Astoria, so enjoying herself that she’d moan and send little vibrations up through Hermione’s body. And then… and then Hermione envisioned Astoria slipping one and then two of her slender fingers into her, working her fingers just so, finding that one perfect spot inside her that made her see stars. 

Hermione could see, could practically feel it as the water flowed over her clit. Astoria would hum and lick and move her fingers, and Draco would watch and touch and bite at her ear and…

“FUCK! Oh god, fuck!” she came, hard, her body shaking in the water at the thought of it all. 

Hermione pushed back from the faucet, sensitive from the orgasm, little flutters still pulsing through her. 

She ran her fingers through her wet hair and tried to catch her breath. 

She wanted it. She wanted them both. She wanted it all. 

**Author's Note:**

> I am so thrilled to share that this story won the "Sinfully Succulent" (best erotic) category in the 2018 Forbidden Fruit festival, along with runner up for best execution of prompt and joint-runner up for best overall story. This was my first fest piece, and this story went from concept to cover art and posting in an insane four days. I DO plan to finish this story, but I don't really have a time frame for its completion, as I'm also working on a war era Lucius/Hermione story, "An Innocent Obsession." The Lumione story was my original entry for this fest, but it became too lengthy.
> 
> I owe a HUGE debt of gratitude to Ariel Riddle for refusing to let me just quit. I ran the idea for this story by her, and she encouraged me to finish it. The day before the competition ended, I'd decided it just wasn't possible to finish in such a short period of time, but she really pushed me to push myself and finish as much as I could. This story simply would not be here without Ariel's encouragement and support. 
> 
> Thank you all for reading and sharing your feedback! I am still working on this story, but I don't want to make you wait a long time for updates, so I'm reformatting it to make each scene/date its own chapter, and am posting NEW content.


End file.
